I Don't Think So
by Grey-Rain-Cloud
Summary: The Goddess of Love would not stand for this. It was unacceptable.
1. Chapter 1

They left her baby on a doorstep. They left _her_ baby on a _doorstep_ with nothing but a _blanket_. Aphrodite scowled, did they think him a newspaper or some flaming dog shit? _I don't think so_, the goddess thought viciously, bending down and picking up the fifteen month old baby. She cradled him to her breast, and the child snuggled closer and sighed. Aphrodite studied the ugly lightning bolt scar that marred her beautiful child's forehead.

"Oh, I don't think so." She breathed aloud, brushing her index finger over it, her red nail lightly scraping. A black tar-like substance came gushing out, and it crawled up her finger with black spider web limbs, but all Aphrodite did was flick it towards the ground where it sunk strait to the Underworld. When the goddess looked back at the child there was no scar, not even a hint of it. "Hades will be able to track down the other pieces of soul now that he has something to work with." She said reassuringly to her child who had opened his multicolored eyes to stare at her. "So there's really no reason for you to be staying with these horrible people." She smiled beautifully.

With that, the Goddess of Love walked across the street where a nice married couple resided, but were packing in order to move to New York—the had not liked the neighbors, which played a huge part in their decision. Aphrodite conjured a white wicker bassinet with fluffy pillows and blankets and a plush toy of a stag, placed the boy in it, and turned away. She stopped halfway down the driveway and looked back in thought: all of the baby's blankets and clothes suddenly had a name embroidered in golden thread along with an intricate dove.

The name that was sewn was _Hadrian James Potter_.


	2. Chapter 2

_Journal of Hadrian James Potter-King of 1991-1992_

_ So I'm finally at Hogwarts. Yay? Honestly, I had wanted to go to Beauxbatons. It was in France and I can speak French and read it because it's the language of love—perk of being a son of Aphrodite. They hadn't sent me an acceptance letter though; I think they usually stick strictly to only allowing people from France to go, which is annoying and stupid. It won't be that bad though—the reading and writing thing—because Jocelyn Blackwood, one of my friends and a daughter of Hecate, gave me some glasses—just with glass lenses; thank the gods I don't actually need glasses—that made it so I was able to read English for my birthday and taught me the incantation to translate my work—that I will most likely write in a confusing mix of Ancient Greek, Latin, and French—into English. _

_ Thank the gods for Jocelyn, I don't know how I'd survive without that one._

_ Anyway, if I'm going to start off this journal right, I suppose I should say a bit about myself: I am a half-blood son of Aphrodite, goddess of love; I have been going to Camp Half-Blood since I was seven and my adoptive parents—Jonathan and Bethany King—were hit by a drunk driver; I can charmspeak; I am a wizard; I have messy black hair and kaleidoscope eyes; and I live in New York but am going to boarding school in Europe called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_ Today I took the train along with everyone else to the school—why did we need a train when we could travel by magical means? Maybe a Portkey?—which was a gaudy scarlet with gold trimming. Quite the eye sore; I was glad to get to my compartment if only to save my vision. I immediately started to read the extra-curricular book I had bought at Flourish and Blotts about Curses, Hexes, and Jinxes. I thought that it would prove useful on the Hermes cabin—they need a taste of their own medicine. It sounded more promising than the spells that were in the Charms text—why would I need to levitate something? Do they think that I am unable to pick things up with those things that people call arms? And anyway, I had already tried that spell under the supervision of Jocelyn and it was easy._

_ It was just about time for the train to leave the platform—9 ¾; how weird—when the door to the compartment I was in was opened by a gangly red haired boy with freckles all over. He asked me if he could share my compartment as everywhere else was full—unlikely, but it was only polite to allow him in._

_ He introduced himself as Ron Weasely, and all I could say was, "What an unfortunate last name!"_

_ He didn't appear to appreciate my comment, no matter how true it was, and went on a rant about how he was not a blood-traitor just because he wasn't a slimy Slytherin or Death Eater in training like all the other Pureblood bigots out there were._

_ Honestly, all I said was that he had an unfortunate last name. I tried to shut him up naturally, by explaining myself, "I only thought that the name Weasley had an uncanny resemblance to weasel, and that it would be very easy for people to make fun of."_

_ Then he glares at me! Did he think that I was making fun of him? Because I was only pointing it out._

_ He wasn't very polite either; he hadn't even asked me my name. And when the trolley came around and I got some chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans for myself, he made what I am sure is his most pitiful look—evidently he was over the whole Weasley-weasel fiasco—and pulled out a corn beef sandwich that his mother had packed for him, saying that he didn't like corn beef and that she always forgot. The he looked at the candy I had gotten for myself with obvious longing._

_ I made no move to share with him. I didn't even know this Ron Weasley for ten minutes before he had started glaring at me, and now he wanted me to give him my food, when he had been so rude as to not even ask my name? I don't think so._

_ Then he pulled out his disgusting rat who was patchy and missing a toe—while I was still eating!—and starts bragging about how his brothers—Fred and George—had taught him a spell to change the thing yellow. Changing it yellow would not improve its looks, so I was quite relieved when the compartment door opened, even if it was a bossy girl asking if they had seen a toad, as a boy named Neville had lost one._

_ I said to her, "You should check the loo. Damp there." She had already lost interest though, having seen Ron's wand out. She wanted to see the spell that would turn the rat—Scabbers?—yellow._

_ Ron cleared his throat, and I couldn't tell if he was uncomfortable or feeling important, and said in rhyme, "Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow; turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" He flared his wand at the end, but it didn't matter: the rat was not yellow. I laughed. He was quite gullible if he believed that that was a spell. I think I might like his brothers much more than him._

_ Hermione Granger—the bossy girl—boasted about how she had tried out a few spells herself and that they had worked fine, and left a bit after that—I didn't hear the whole exchange, as I was laughing too hard._

_ The rest of the train ride went smoothly if you ignored that blond boy with a pointed face ("Names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.") and his two thugs who had come barging in demanding if Harry Potter was in the compartment while looking at me, or more precisely, my forehead._

_ "No," I smiled politely, "there is no Harry Potter here. My name is Hadrian King and this is Ron Weasley."_

_ He then sneered at me in disgust, calling me a "Mudblood." Very impolite._

_ "I'll have you know," I responded to the insult with an ironic smile, while Ron was spluttering furiously in the background, "that I am a half-blood."_

_ He went a faint pink and retreated. He probably didn't know how to respond when someone didn't rise to his bait._

_ When we finally got off the train it was dark out, and the first years had to cross a lake in a rickety boat to get to Hogwarts. Was all this just for show? To try and endear us to the castle? Because I still much prefer camp, with the cabins and big house and strawberry fields. _

_ I was quite cold by the time we made it to the castle and a stern woman named Professor McGonagall led us to our sorting. Ron had said that his brother Fred had told him they had to fight a troll, which meant that we didn't have to fight a troll. It was obvious that his brother was pranking him again._

_ We had to try on this ratty old hat that sang a dreadful song in a horrifically off-key voice. It was boring, waiting until my name was called, "Potter-King, Hadrian!"_

_ When I put on the hat—feeling paranoid about lice and transferred dandruff—it spoke to me in my mind, telling me I had enough smarts for Ravenclaw but not the drive; that I was brave enough for Gryffindor but wasn't as impulsive, and was most definitely not suited for Slytherin. In the end the hat called out, "Huffelpuff!" because of my hard work and loyalty. My tie changed to yellow and black—the house colors. _

_ The entirety of the Great Hall—minus a minority of muggleborns—seemed stunned at where I had been sorted—or was it because they had been getting my name wrong all these years without knowing? Calling me Harry Potter instead of Hadrian?—but the Huffelpuff's regained their senses first, and burst with enthusiasm, clapping and cheering._

_ I made friends with Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, and Justin Finch-Fletchly. Susan was a pureblood, Hannah was a half-blood—but not my kind—while Justin was a muggleborn. I had to keep asking what the food was, and considering how different European food was to American, my stomach was not very happy. It didn't help that most of it was heavy and the food at camp was light and health conscious._

_ Headmaster Dumbledore—when I had heard the name I had snorted and mumbled, "Dumb old door," under my breath—announced after dessert that the third floor corridor was forbidden to all those who did not want to die a painful death. A few people laughed. I didn't. When you're a demigod, you tend to take these things a little more seriously. I would not be going to that corridor._

_ Oh! He also announced that there would be a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin. I hope he's good; he looked kind if not a little ragged and worn._

_ Anyway, that's about it. _

_ Until next time,_

_ Hadrian King_


	3. Chapter 3

_Journal of Hadrian James Potter-King  
(It is not a diary! No matter what Justin says!)  
… of 1991-1992_

_ I miss my Walkman! Where is the music in the Wizarding World? Besides the school song at the start of the year feast—the lyrics of which were disturbing; 'Hoggy hoggy Hogwarts.' Really?—there has been nothing to suggest that there is any decent music around here! Susan told me that they had a few bands, and that her favorite was the Weird Sisters. I got Hannah to sing me a couple lines—I had originally asked Susan to, but she told me that Hannah was the one with the good voice (which was true; she has a beautiful voice.)—and the lyrics were atrocious! (My word of the day.)_

_ So I sang a bit of the songs from the bands that I like to listen to: Queen, AC/DC, Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, Def Leppard, and etcetera. Justin backed me up, saying that muggle music is much more interesting and diverse (his word of the day) and we tried to sway their opinions to the __right__ side. Hannah was easy—she had heard some of the songs we talked about from her mum, who's a muggleborn, so she was more open-minded—but it took a full week of Justin, Hannah, and I randomly bursting into song for Susan to concede defeat. It was worth all the odd stares we received._

_ To classes though! In Transfiguration for the first week, Professor McGonagall had us copy down long and complicated notes—I was glad that I had brought along normal pens to do my notes with, or I'm sure I would have lost all function in my right hand—and then had us try to turn a matchstick into a needle. Susan and I got it right away—me because Jocelyn had taken me through all of my school books (she had been just as interested in a magic school as I had) and Susan because her Auntie Amelia, who works with the law enforcement, had been teaching her magic a year early so she would be able to protect herself. (I asked Susie why turning a matchstick into a needle would protect her, and she just blushed and stammered out, "It's a stepping stone to more advanced magic," which I accepted, despite the fact that Susie seemed to be unsure if she was right.)_

_ In Charms all we did was take notes, and though Prof. Flitwick said that we would be doing the Levitation Charm next class to cheer us up, I was far from happy. I think I'll have to go to the library and look up some more advanced Charms for me to do, because I think that class will be a bore. Hannah seems to really love it though, so I'll just have to keep that opinion to myself._

_ Herbology was, for me, the most interesting class we had had so far. This was something wholly new to me, and I could bring some of these back to Camp for the Demeter Cabin to grow; they'll love it. Prof. Sprout was very brisk in her explanations, and was more focused on hands-on work, preferring to assign us pages from the text to read for us if we want a more in depth explanation. I liked that. We had a whole class where we got to garden with new and exotic plants! Susan and Hannah didn't really like it much—I think it has more to do with getting their hands dirty than anything else—but Justin loved it just as much as me. Justin and I took out a couple more books from the library on Herbology, and at free time we poured over them. Our essays were very well done._

_ History of Magic was horrible. I know I'm going to fail that class if I don't do some self-study. Sigh. I hate Professor Binns. I hate ghosts. I hate ghost teachers. And I HATE Headmasters that allow that kind of INCOMPETANCE to teach. Whew… rage, y'know? At least it came out in my Journal and not when the Headmaster called me into his office._

_ Oh yeah! I almost forgot; on the first day, before classes had even begun, Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to come to his office. Then he said that he enjoyed Cauldron Cakes, which was weird and I was thinking along the lines of, "TMI!" but I managed to say to him—because it looked like he wanted a response—"Er… good for you." So he left, and I stuffed a piece of toast in my mouth and jammed an apple in my robe pocket. I was about to leave as well, but then realized that the barmy old git—I'm picking up some English phrases now; Justin's teaching me—hadn't told me where, exactly, his office was located. So I asked one of the upper years, Cedric Diggory, and he gave me directions._

_ I made it there alright, but the ugly gargoyle that guarded his office didn't want to let me pass. The one-sided conversation went like this:_

_ "Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to see me."_

_ Silence._

_ "Can you, I dunno, let me pass?"_

_ Stubborn silence._

_ "Are you even sentient? Why would somebody put your ugly mug in front of their office if you don't actually do anything?"_

_ Mocking silence._

_ "Alright, well. I didn't want to have to do this, but since you're being such a female dog, I'll have to bring out the big guns. You ready Ugly? Huh? You ready to be charmspeaked? Charmspoken to? Hmm. Anyway: let me pass."_

_ The gargoyle moved._

_ When I got to the Headmaster's office, I sat in the chair opposite his desk. Dumbledore looked at me gravely from behind his half-moon glasses—which had gone out of fashion ages ago—as if I was in trouble before school had even officially started. Then he offered me a lemon drop, to which I declined. (You aren't supposed to take candy from creepy old men.) Then he offered me some premade tea, to which I declined. (I was starting to get suspicious; why did this old man want to give me something to eat/drink so much? Was he trying to poison me? No, people know that I'm in his office, he would be a prime suspect. Maybe he was trying to drug me? But to what purpose?)_

_ I got my answer when he spoke next. "Harry, my boy, where have you been all these years? Why were you not with your relatives?"_

_ So, he probably laced the candy and tea with some sort of truth potion. Maybe a sort of relax agent, to make me more amenable to suggestion or questioning. I scrunched up my nose and made a show of looking behind me, as if there was someone else in the room he might be addressing. "Sir? Who's Harry?"_

_ "Why, you, my boy." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. _

_ I gave him a flat look, and said slowly, as if I were talking to an idiot, "No, my name is Hadrian, and I think it would be better if you would address me as Mr. King. You're making me uncomfortable."_

_ He looked a bit shocked, as if he had never once thought that a thousand year old man calling an eleven year old 'my boy' was frowned upon. "Very well, Mr. Po—" I gave him a sharp look. "Mr. King, then. Mr. King, why were you not with your relatives? I placed you there for your protection."_

_ "Well," I said primly, "I don't really think it's any of your business, and frankly, that you want to know my place of residence in concerning." I didn't bother asking him why being with Lily Potter's sister and her family was for my own protection. Mom had explained that to me in a dream a long time ago. I looked at my watch, "Now, I have to be off to class if I don't want to be late." I made my way to the door, but before I exited, I turned back and ordered Dumbledore with charmspeak, "You'll not ask me to come to your office again unless it is about school or an emergency."_

_ And from now on I hate Dumbledore. I even bet the Weasley twins that they couldn't prank him, so of course now it is their mission to prank Dumbledore as much as possible on account of their honour. I shudder at the thought of those two ever coming in contact with the Hermes Cabin._

_ Back to classes though, Potions was kinda funny. Prof. Snape hates me with a passion—dunno why, don't really care—so he tried to bully me, but when you've faces monsters that want to eat you and have gods that if you don't show enough respect to will blast you so badly all that will be left is a scorch mark, a tall and greasy man with a large nose who looks like an overgrown bat is just not intimidating. At all. _

_ So he asked me some questions before he had even taught us anything, but since Justin and I had been reading up on Herbology, which is very closely linked to Potions—so close if fact that we read about Potions too—I got them all right and he had to actually begin teaching us. He was seething. During the class he was in a foul mood, making the Ravenclaws frantic—trying to figure out what they were doing so wrong—and the Hufflepuffs hunch into themselves as if they wanted to disappear. _

_ When he made it around to Justin and I—we were bottling up our Boil Cure Potion, which was only a little off color—he sneered at us, and I was so fed up that I just said, "Please go away." And he left us alone. Justin was the only one who heard, as I had spoken quietly, and was staring at me with his mouth hanging open. I shushed him and got back to work, but when we were back in the dorm that night I told him that I was a demigod son of Aphrodite and what that entailed. He took it quite well, I thought, but that might be because he had just gotten accepted into a school of magic and didn't see how the Greek gods actually existing was that farfetched. He did interrogate me about life at Camp though, and I think he's going to be looking up 'Mythology' in his spare time._

_ Justin was definitely my best friend._

_ Defence Against the Dark Arts was the most exciting, though only at the beginning. Hufflepuffs had Defence with the Gryffindors, and right away, when Professor Lupin came in, things got interesting. Prof. Lupin's nostrils flared as if he had smelled something foul, and his eyes zoomed in on Weasely, who had his rat in his robe pocket where its head was sticking out of. It quivered when it saw Lupin. The Prof.'s face looked positively feral, his eyes even glinting gold. He raised his wand and said in a dark voice, "Accio Peter Pettigrew." Then Weasly's rat flew into his hand, where Lupin then pointed his want at it and said, "Stupify." The Professor looked up to his audience and seemed to come back to himself. He said to Weasley, "I'm afraid that I'll need to confiscate your rat Mr. Weasely, as the only animals allowed as pets in Hogwarts are owls, cats, or toads. Now, I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore. Class dismissed." _

_ Yeah, that was my first Defence class. We didn't learn any actual spells, but it was interesting enough, and we did get a free period. I looked up the Accio spell that he used, and it's apparently the Summoning Charm, so that means the rats real name is Peter Pettigrew, and that Lupin must have known him. So I looked up how one could become an animal, and that's called being an Animagus. I think I'd like to be one, it would come in handy if I need to escape a monster. I looked up the register to see if Peter Pettigrew was an Animagus, but he wasn't there, so that means he must be an illegal Animagus, which sounds much more interesting that being a registered Animagus. Oh, that Stupify spell that Lupin used was a stunning spell._

_ …. Huh, I suppose he did teach us Defense during the Worlds Shortest Class Ever._

_ Well, that's done._

_ Don't wait up,_

_ Hadrian King_


	4. Chapter 4

_Journal of Hadrian James Potter-King of 1991-1992_

_ This is the first Journal that I've ever kept, but I've always liked writing. Children of Aphrodite are naturally good with words, even if they don't have the gift of charmspeak like I do, and I put mine to use. Almost all of my sisters are too obsessed with makeup and clothes to think of using their natural gift to much use besides snatching up the most handsome guy at camp, and my brothers—though I don't have many of those—just want to look cool around all the girls—all my siblings are at least two years older than me; I'm the baby of the family—but they had always been supportive of me. They even read through some of my stories—they were written in Ancient Greek—and correct my grammar, though you couldn't say that the Aphrodite campers were the brightest._

_ The Athena campers liked to point this out whenever possible, so when they heard me talking to my oldest sister Katherine (who is also cabin councillor and my favorite sibling) about the new short story that I had written—it was about the time my adoptive parents and I were vacationing in France and my mom tricked my dad into eating escargot—they thought it was hilarious. They laughed and mocked me because they don't think us Aphrodite kids have a working brain. They don't think that we can chew gum and walk at the same time. So they got me this Journal as a birthday present and said that it was for the book I was going to write. They said it with smirks on their faces, like they were all in on an inside joke._

_ They were trying to put me down, basically saying that they didn't believe I could write anything intelligent or of consequence. Before then, writing had only been a hobby—I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up and I didn't care much because I was ten going on eleven—but that day, on my eleventh birthday, in front of mean grey eyes and derisive laughter, I decided that I would write as much as possible and one day have one of my books published. I would show them that Aphrodite kids aren't to be underestimated._

_ I'd show them._

_ First by using the Journal they had gotten me out of spite._

_ Hadrian King_


End file.
